First Love
by dantesdarkqueen
Summary: The world knows of Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan. But what of those who came before...?
1. Tamlen

**Summary: **The world knows of Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan. But what of those who came before...?

**Disclaimer: **Repeat after me: I own zilch.

**Queen's Quornor: **After much time spent in Kirkwall and its surrounding environs, I could not help returning to Ferelden to try and tie up some plot lines between the two games, to affirm some suspicions I have about the third installment. That was when it hit me: many of the Wardens, especially the females, had lovers or potential lifemates before they came into contact with Duncan. Yet nobody seems to really acknowledge that the Warden had feelings for them. So I have returned to my beloved italicized monologues, in order to explore the relationship between these women and the men they lost, their first loves.

Tamlen

_It is difficult to believe that this is really him. This twisted, tormented mockery of an elf cannot possibly be my clan-mate. Were it not for the burn of the gouges across my middle, the hot blood splashed over my body, I would think this merely a nightmare, a cruel reprieve from visions of the Archdemon. _

_But it is reality._

_And this is all that remains of Tamlen._

_I kneel in the torn grass beside him, letting my fingers stroke the air above him. The body is hairless and dark, nearly all hardened carapace and slick corruption. So unlike the man I knew, with his silken crop of golden hair and shining eyes. There is no softness here, no trace of the tattoos he wore so proudly. Can tattoos be eaten by the sickness? Or is his flesh so dark I am merely unable to detect them? The hands, once graceful and deft enough to untangle the worst of snarls from a child's hair without sacrificing even one strand, clutch at the earth in death, clawing deep furrows with the talons that ruptured his delicate fingertips. He begged me to kill him, yet it seems a part of his tainted body wishes to hold onto life by any means possible._

_So unlike him, and at the same time so much akin that my heart aches. This monster, this shriek, deserved so much better than an execution in the mud. He should never have been in this position. Creators, this should never have happened!_

_Tamlen was so much more than my clan-mate. When we were young, chasing about the camp and learning at Hahren Paivel's feet, he was my brother, joining me in mischief yet defending me when punishment loomed. Older, he became my best friend, a true confidante who dried my tears and listened when I needed to rage about my parents, dead before memory formed. He was strong when he needed to be, but retained a kind of gentleness where I was concerned. I admired his curiosity about our history, and it impressed me how protective he could be of the clan. He had so many qualities which drew my attention. Fenerel was more handsome, Junar the better hunter, Chandon possessed of the most grace and charm. But Tamlen was so alive compared to the others, and of them all he was the one who understood me best. _

_I do not remember when he stole my heart. Perhaps it was always his. _

_Why did we wait to join? We were both acknowledged hunters, successful in providing meat and furs to the clan. True, I was beginning to learn Master Illen's craft, but there is no rule which states an apprentice must be unwed. Was it that we were afraid? Our relationship was something of an open secret - the clan knew we were close, but not that we had already given ourselves to one another - and nobody expressed disapproval of our obvious affection. I think most of the clan would have been thrilled that the orphan daughter of their previous Keeper was joined to her dearest friend from childhood. I know Ashalle would have sung her joy so even our lost gods could hear. _

_I think Tamlen was entertaining a proposal. He was a little surprised when I shirked my time with Master Illen to go hunting with him that afternoon, and he was evasive when I inquired as to his chosen prey. But his pleasure at being near me was obvious enough, even if we intended to hunt rather than play. In all honesty, I believe his thoughts were less on elusive quarry than finding a secluded place to speak with me. Had we not come across those shemlen, would he have asked for my hand that day in the forest? _

_I cannot help but think it so. _

_Before tonight, I thought I had moved on. I have a new lover to share my bedroll, and every spare moment is spent cobbling together an army to overthrow Loghain and combat a fallen god as corrupted as the husk before me. Alistair shares many qualities with Tamlen, which could explain in part my attraction to him. Tamlen would not approve of me laying with a shem, but perhaps I can fool myself into believing that he would want me to love, not waste my remaining years consumned with grief. _

_Alistair is the reason I can face the world with a smile. But a part of me went with Tamlen the day he vanished into that vile mirror. _

_He was the one. I know he was. So did he._

_That was why I could strike him down. My Tamlen was already gone. His body was merely a monster, despite the tattered vestiges of the man I loved. The only mercy I could offer was the edge of my blade. _

_I can keep telling myself that. I can whisper it to my quickling lover as he kneels behind me, enfolding me in a comforting embrace with his lips in my hair. I can scream it to the stars twinkling coldly overhead, bathing us all in silvery radiance. _

_But the knowing does not ease the ache which has laid claim to my innards. It does not prevent the breaking of my heart. It cannot stop the tears gliding unchecked down my cheeks. _

_This is not my Tamlen, I know that._

_Perhaps I am mourning a future that could never be. _


	2. Nelaros

**Summary: **The world knows of Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan. But what of those who came before...?

**Disclaimer: **Repeat after me: I own zilch.

**Queen's Quornor: **Now for the Tabris interest. I think I'm going to stick to the female POV, simply because there are more early romantic options if you play a woman. The only issue is going to be the Cousland double-option, and I'm not entirely certain which I'm going to pick. Maybe I'll flip a coin... Anyway, I didn't like the idea of the arranged unions the first time I played as the city elf, but I was pleasantly surprised when the PC met Nelaros. He's not so bad, and I felt terrible when he was killed. Barring the love-at-first-sight thing, I doubt there was really any chance the PC had any time to develop real feelings for him. I bet she would be thinking about what would have happened if she had married him, and never been conscripted. She knew very little about him, but plenty about what he represented.

Nelaros

_The Dalish are luckier than they know. They are free to live as they will, eat what they please, and go wherever they wish. They do not have to fear humans prowling through their homes, culling their freedoms and their lives. They do not have to constantly worry about a knife in the dark, or the painful attentions of a lustful lord. _

_Dalish are free to taste the wind, worship our gods, and love whom they will._

_I think that was what bothered me the most about life in the Alienage. No matter what I wanted, my life was beyond my control. My mother taught me to fight, to free myself should some human bastard clap me in irons. She gave me the tools I needed to make my own future, yet it still was not mine. It devastated me when she was killed, because my greatest defender was no more. Mother wanted me to choose my own husband, not be shuffled around for the children I might bear. I remember well her heated arguments with Father about auctioning me off like some brood mare, how she demanded I be allowed to remain in Denerim. _

_Father agreed with her on that point. But he still spent a great deal of carefully-saved coin to find a groom I might find acceptable. At least I was not alone, though I truly regret that Father could not spare much for Soris' bride._

_Did everybody expect me to be so shallow, I would accept a man based solely on his appearance? I was relieved that Father had found me a handsome groom, but I hated the situation. I despise the idea of arranged marriage. We elves are allowed so few freedoms; must we relinquish our right to happiness with a man or woman of our own choosing? Hahren Valendrian says true happiness comes when we make the most of a situation we are given, but how can I believe that when I see the emotional, sometimes physical, wreckage of a mismatched couple? My parents were the exception, not the rule. I did not want to become a bitter woman like Elva, raising a child while my man squanders our precious coin on ale and the occasional flea-ridden whore. _

_So I was pleasantly surprised when I met Nelaros. He was certainly handsome - half of the Alienage's women were happy at my "good fortune," the other half hated me for getting such a man - and he seemed genuinely interested in making the marriage work. Most surprising to me, I glimpsed a kind of quiet strength in his eyes, which flared so brightly when the arl's son came to take us away. Aside from my cousins and Valendrian, I had not seem such strength since my mother left for her final day. It intrigued me, and I wanted to know more about this man I was to marry. _

_My interest only grew when Soris found us in the arl's palace and said Nelaros had orchestrated the rescue, that he was guarding our escape route. I had never met a man who was my fighting equal, elf or human; I was very interested in my cousin's description of his skill in battle. I began to think that, perhaps, this match was not so bad. Maybe I could fall in love with a man who would kill to save me from harm. _

_Those innocent hopes were dashed when we arrived at the main hall, and my courageous groom was cut down before my eyes. _

_I do not remember much of that fight. I only recall the aftermath, when I knelt beside his broken body and found the ring waiting in his pocket. It was a simple band of silver, but it represented so very much. He had carried it all the way from Highever to slip onto my finger, perhaps even forged it himself in his father's smithy; how many of his hopes and fears might he have whispered to this ring, looking at it while the merchant caravan bounced ever closer to Denerim and his future?_

_If only jewelry could talk._

_I kept the ring when we fled the estate. It remained in my pack after Duncan conscripted me, and I forgot it. I only rediscovered it today, when Odin went snooping for the bone I found in Redcliffe. Now it lays in my cupped hands, catching what little light slips through my tent. It is a very polished piece of jewelry. _

_This is probably the only wedding ring I will ever receive. As much as I love him, I cannot see Zevran ever proposing. He is worldly compared to Nelaros, and unbelievably skilled in private. He is a true match for me in combat, though I will never be quite the assassin he is. My Antivan lover is everything I could have wanted in a man but never thought to find. _

_I still cannot stop myself from wondering about my almost-husband. Soris said he fought like a demon; I know he was a fairly accomplished smith, so where did he learn to wield a sword? What other secrets were there for me to find in our life together? Would I have really been happy with him? _

_Maker only knows what would have happened if Bann Vaughan hadn't walked through the Alienage that day._

_The ring is so heavy in my palm. It is a tiny shackle, linking me to hopes that will never be realized, regrets that only hold me back. How can I mourn a man I met only hours before his death?_

_Zevran does not stir as I leave the tent. It's his own fault for being such a good teacher, and my reward for being a diligent student. I wonder if any of his previous conquests ever managed to put him to sleep like this?_

_Morrigan is sitting near the fire, scratching Odin's ears while she keeps watch. She inclines her head slightly in my direction, but otherwise does not acknowledge my prescence. To her, someone rising in the middle of the night is not cause for questioning. It is assumed that he or she is simply visiting a bush. _

_There is a small pond not far from our favorite campsite, one which is deep and surprisingly clear of scum. Most of us prefer bathing in the stream a short distance away, so this pool is usually left alone. _

_I look at the ring gleaming in my palm and remember his handsome face, the nervous smile he gave me at our first meeting, the way his eyes lit when I mounted the platform beside him. I recall the strength in his long fingers when he took my hand at the humans' intrusion, how he tried to hold me back when I challenged the bann. _

_Then I rear back, and throw the ring into the pond. _

_It makes the smallest disturbance, but the ripples spread to make the water tremble all the same. I listen to the tiny waves lapping at the banks, then tip my head back with my eyes shut. _

_Fare you well, Nelaros._


	3. Dairren

**Summary: **The world knows of Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan. But what of those who came before...?

**Disclaimer: **Repeat after me: I own zilch.

**Queen's Quornor: **As you can see, Dairren won the coin-toss. I really have no preference between him and Iona, and I could easily have explored a homosexual relationship with a Cousland and his or her one-time lover. But of the two, Dairren had better long-term prospects than gentle Iona. Considering that nobility, especially girls, are groomed practically from birth for good marriages it seemed a better idea to go with the quarter's recommendation and write a chapter about the male love interest.

Dairren

_I never imagined I would be queen. I figured Cailan and Anora would rule long and well, and I would be wed to some fop my parents thought I might tolerate. It was some consolation that the nobility of Ferelden are primarily warriors, but not much._

_My guess was that I would be given to the Howes, to marry their eldest son Nathaniel. Father was friends with Arl Rendon, after all. It was not so strange to think it so, until much later. And Nathaniel himself was not such a bad fellow. I honestly did admire him - and still do - in spite of his father. I once entertained a romantic scenerio involving me as his wife, but now I am happy to merely call him my friend and trusted second here at Vigil's Keep._

_But Mother had her heart set on my wedding one of her friends' children. I didn't care for most of them, save two: Oswyn, the son of Bann Sighard, and Dairren, Bann Loren's boy. They were the only two who saw my potential as more than a womb on legs, and were actually willing to spar with me. But Oswyn was no longer an option after our mothers had a falling-out, so that left me with Dairren._

_I had thought him handsome when I spotted him at my mother's spring salon, after a separation of four years. He had filled out well since he became a squire, and his brown eyes were those of an educated man. There was still some of the shyness I recalled, and I found that refreshing. I've never liked forward men. Let me do the chasing, thank you._

_I'm convinced that he and his mother, Lady Landra, came to the castle in the hopes that I would approach him. Mother was in on it as well, if I know her. Ser Gilmore and I had become very close at the time, so she was probably getting fearful that I would do something indiscreet with the wrong person. She needn't have feared. Ser Gilmore and I were friends, and nothing more._

_Seeing Dairren again, well... There was certainly interest on my part, as well as his. Since it was obvious that our mothers were pushing us together, I saw no problem with acting on our obvious attraction. He was surprised and extremely pleased when I invited him to my room that night. I remember because I was so relieved when he accepted my proposal with a smile._

_The bedding itself wasn't so bad. I had been taught the basic mechanics and knew my sensitive areas, and he was enthusiastic, if a bit nervous. Dairren was a tender one, I'll give him that. Alistair is a much more proficient lover, but there are definitely worse men to have as one's first. All in all, it was an enjoyable experience and I remember that I was looking forward to repeated encounters. I went to sleep in his arms, dreaming of a future with sweet Dairren._

_Thanks to Howe's treachery, that future was not to be._

_I blamed myself for Dairren's death for many weeks. If I hadn't been so available, so beautiful, so fiesty, so what-have-you he would not have been there. Then I blamed him for the stupidity of actually opening the door with such suspicious noises on the other side. I berated myself for not letting Magnus stay in my room with us, making him stay in the kitchen in case more rats came through. I scolded Dairren for not possessing the foresight to remain behind the door, as any man in his smallclothes is supposed to do._

_At last I settled on Howe as the true reason. Loghain might have had a hand in my family's death - he did try to eliminate Arl Eamon and a few other prominent landowners, after all, and my father was as formidable an opponent, if not moreso. The Cousland name alone carries great weight in the Landsmeet - but there was no real proof of his involvement. Likely Howe acted on his own, and Loghain merely silenced any who spoke of his ally's treachery. I saw Ser Gilmore's body in Fort Drakon; the traitor would have little interest in a knight from Highever on his own._

_There was no sweeter moment in all my journey than when I stood over Howe and watched him die. I let him know, with every sword stroke, exactly what he had stolen from me._

_There was one more life he may have taken, albeit indirectly. I missed a bleeding during the journey to Ostagar, but it resumed on the next month. I have skipped menses before, but the first after my Joining was far worse than any before or after. The cramps were crippling, to the point that Wynne had to intervene so we could continue to the Brecilian Forest. There seemed to be more blood than usual. I actually had to take a day to rest after it began, which was highly unusual for me. None of my menses have been so difficult since then, so I have to wonder if there was more to the skip than emotional trauma. I asked Sigrun about the severity of her first bleeding post-ritual, and she told me it was no worse than any before._

_It couldn't have been just a side-effect of the Joining. Dairren might have left me with more than a torn hymen and sweet memories._

_But I will never be certain._

_I have asked Wynne to research as many fertility potions as possible and send me the most promising ones, so I can give Alistair the heir he needs when we are reunited. He means everything to me now, and I have been faithful since my appointment as Warden-Commander. But it seems so unfair that the man I was supposed to marry might have gotten me pregnant, and because of the taint in my blood I can't give a child to the man I did marry._

_I truly love Alistair. Every day I spend apart from him is almost a physical pain, so much do I miss him. I regret nothing so much as not meeting him when I was little and Mother took me along to one of Lady Isolde's summer salons. He was probably kept out of sight because of his parentage, but I wish we could have met as children._

_I met Dairren when I was seven, and we were friends of a sort. I did love him, but it was not the same sort of love. I know now that, had I married him, the union would not be anything like what I share with Alistair. Dairren was very reserved, whereas my husband has become very passionate and obvious about our love. I can't see Dairren ever embracing me in welcome and giving me a kiss hot enough to light the hearths on the second floor of the palace. He was the type to kiss the back of my hand, while giving me one of those smoldering looks that promises a more intimate greeting later._

_It took a lot of chasing to bring Alistair out of his shell, and I have relished watching him grow from a snarky second into a king capable of inspiring the nation. I doubt I could ever have fully cracked Dairren's husk._

_Looking back on it, I can recognize my own naivete in assuming that Dairren was the one I was meant to marry. Excluding Nathaniel, he was merely the best of the options presented. That did not mean I had to love him. But how was I supposed to know the Maker had such a man as Alistair in mind for me, much less the throne?_

_I wish that Dairren had not died in the attack on my home. But I suppose I must thank him for showing me what I would have had without his untimely demise. Without him, I might have been skewered on that sword. I might never have joined the Grey Wardens. I might never have met Alistair._

_Thank you for being a part of my life, Dairren. And especially thank you for leaving it so the right man could come along._


	4. Cullen

**Summary: **The world knows of Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan. But what of those who came before...?

**Disclaimer: **Repeat after me: I own zilch.

**Queen's Quornor:** You know, I forgot exactly how uncomfortable Cullen is when you try to talk to him after the Harrowing. It's easy to tell how much he's grown when you compare that little flight of his to his clear discomfort when discussing the Blooming Rose in DA2, but so easy to forget what made him grow so fast. I don't really care that much for the templar POV, but I do like Cullen. He's not such a bad guy, and I have to admire a man that devoted to his beliefs yet still willing to bend the rules a little for the greater good. He stood up to Meredith to protect the Champion; how could I not respect that? I also think that he will heal, given time and removal from the Ferelden Circle. He obviously suffered PTSD, but it is possible to recover from the trauma. It would simply take time.

Cullen

_I've always liked a man in armor. _

_I hardly remember anything about my family, but I do remember that my father was a mercenary. He is the subject of my only recollections about life before the Tower: I recall flinging myself into his arms when he strode into the house, my small body making his armor ring dully with the impact, and him lifting me high in the air with a joyous laugh. If I close my eyes, I can see my little hands helping him polish his armor while Mother fixes supper and my brother tugs at his shirt, begging for stories of his travels. _

_Father would sometimes let me don his breastplate, even though we both knew it was too heavy for me. We would all laugh at my ridiculous appearance and he would ruffle my hair when I said I wanted to be just like him. _

_Were it not for my magic, I would have inherited Father's armor. _

_I was very young when my gift showed itself. My father distracted me from my predicament by comparing his suit to those of the templars, and I remember I was delighted with the flaming sword embossed on their breastplates. The templars laughed when I asked if I could wear their armor. I didn't understand what was happening, why Father and those men were letting me come with them on that trip. I didn't fathom why Mother was crying at our departure. _

_I didn't understand until they put me on the boat, and my father collapsed on the shore when his head in his hands. _

_Life in the Circle was not easy. I missed my family, but there was so much to do, to learn, that my pain quickly faded. I was a joy to the mages, and both a nuisance and a source of mirth to the templars. Some of them hated how I would watch them, not realizing that I was more interested in the play of the light across their armor than what they were doing._

_As I grew, the attraction became less about the armor and more about them men wearing it. I had several interested fellows among the other apprentices, particularly Jowan and, before he passed his Harrowing, Anders, but they didn't hold my interest. The slender forms draped in cloth just weren't as appealing as the muscle-heavy bodies needed to support so much metal. I remember how I would sometimes sneak to the templars' training area, watching with wide eyes and racing heart while they stripped their shirts for hand-to-hand and wrestling practice, or donned padded suits to spar with wooden weapons. I couldn't help fantasizing about them, despite knowing a relationship was forbidden. Perhaps that only deepened the appeal. _

_There was one I admired above all the others. Cullen was not the most handsome - although he certainly wasn't deficient in that regard! - but he was sweet, and intelligent. He was the templar most likely to render aid if an accident occurred. I sometimes stayed up late in the library, preferring to study without the distraction of nervous apprentices practicing and summoning in the other room, and their mentors admonishing them for their fear. Cullen was usually assigned to watch me during these candlelit sessions, and we sometimes engaged in conversation when I needed a break. He was an honorable man, devoted to his faith; I admired that even though I didn't agree with some of his beliefs. He would speak of his life in Denerim as a young lad and I would counter with what little I remembered of my early years. We discussed theology, the virtues and downfalls of magic versus swordplay, the role of the arcane arts outside the Tower, and the world I knew only from my studies and faint memories. There was sometimes more laughter than anybody could have anticipated, considering our respective roles. _

_He became the reason I rejected the advances of men such as Jowan and Anders. I dreamt of what it might be like to kiss him, to peel away that alluring armor and press my body against his. Cullen became the source of my need for frequent trips to the privy when I had no need to use a basin, the reason for many restless nights. He would have flushed as red as his ceremonial sash if he knew the sort of thoughts I entertained concerning him. I knew it could never be, and yet I yearned for it with every fiber of my being._

_The night before my Harrowing, it almost came to a head. I was studying a book of demonology when he came to occupy the chair opposite mine. Every now and then, when I transferred my gaze to the top of a page, I would catch a glimpse of naked longing of his face. _

_He wanted me._

_Eventually the candlestick required a fresh taper; I preferred to use only one candle at a time, despite knowing that the Tower had plenty to spare. He accompanied me to the stockroom, and a part of me would not have been surprised if he had forced me up against a wall and ravished my mouth. I knew he wouldn't, but I dearly wished he would. With the glances he kept flashing me, I think he was honestly tempted._

_The candle was retrieved and we returned to the library without incident. But as we entered the room where I had been studying, the guttering stub occupying the candlestick finally died, leaving us in sudden darkness. _

_Somehow, that instant transition from muted illumination to pitch blackness was enough for my usually-sure footing to fail me. I tripped on the hem of my robe, and Cullen caught me against his chest._

_In that moment, so much could have happened. I could feel the hammer of his heart through his armor, against my fingertips. I heard the gasp as he registered that I was in his arms, pressed against him in the dark. I even heard him swallow, hard. Maker, all I wanted was for him to lower his head, for his lips to find mine at last. _

_But he was an honorable man. He found the will to help me regain my feet and move away. When I lit the candle with a snap of my fingers, Cullen was halfway across the room, his expression guarded and his hands behind his back. _

_I never regretted being a mage any more than I did when I saw him standing like that in the flickering light of the tiny flame. _

_We did not speak for the remainder of that night. I think we were both afraid of what might be said._

_When I was taken to the Harrowing Chamber and saw him standing behind Greagoir, my heart broke for him. I had a fair idea of why he was there after Irving explained my test, and I thought it nothing less than cruel that, of all the templars available, Greagoir had chosen him as the one to take my life in the event of my failure. _

_I wanted to reassure him. I wanted to say good-bye. My tongue itched to say how much I cared for him. _

_But I couldn't stand to besmirch his honor. _

_When I awoke after the Harrowing, I could not help being a little disappointed that Jowan, my best friend, was at my side and not him. I knew he would never approach me under such circumstances, yet I was unable to forestall my innocent hope. _

_So I found him myself, and accepted his stammered apology when he said how much he regretted being chosen as my executioner the previous night. He was so flustered, and when I tried to broach the subject of my stumble in the library he gave me a transparent excuse and fled, blushing._

_I wish there had been some way to speak with him in private; we needed to discuss the bond growing between us. Were it not for Jowan and that faithless harlot, perhaps Cullen and I could have come to some kind of understanding, if only as friends. _

_I hate that woman. She ruined Jowan's life, and she forced me away from Cullen. But if there is one person I despise more than Lily, it is Uldred. I never liked him in the first place, and when I realized the extent of his evil I swore vengeance. Yet my rage knew no bounds when I saw the torment inflicted upon my valiant templar. I felt sick, knowing that he had been tortured with visions of me, that his attraction had been used in such a horrific way._

_Uldred paid for his evil. But the effect on Cullen was not so easily remedied. _

_He rejected me, refused to accept that not all mages were of Uldred's ilk. I attempted to soothe him, and he turned on me with the rage of a maddened beast. Had we been alone, I am certain he would have run me through. I doubt he would have regretted it, even after regaining his senses. _

_I ran from him that time. I refused to let him see my tears._

_Alistair found me outside the tower. He held me while I wept, listened as I told him what Cullen had meant to me. In the weeks following the tower's liberation, I often spent my nights in camp sitting with my fellow Warden, quietly recounting moments spent in Cullen's company. He always listened and comforted me when the pain was too great to bear._

_My guilt was complete when I found myself pressed to Alistair's side one night, sore from an act I had always envisioned sharing with Cullen._

_In time, I came to care for Alistair. But it wasn't enough. So I arranged for him to wed the queen, and threw myself into rebuilding our order after the archdemon was slain. Even then, I was tormented with visions of my wounded templar. I tried to lose myself in an affair with Anders, and it only made me ashamed. Nothing could make me put my love aside and focus on my own life._

_That is why I am here, in Kirkwall. Mages are despised and hunted, thanks to an insane Knight-Commander and a fanatical runaway Warden, but I had to take this chance. This issue is tearing me apart; I must do this even if my efforts only end in my heart splitting in twain upon a templar's sword. _

_Nobody pays me any heed as I follow the directions given me by a contact within the Gallows. I've traced this path so many times in my filthy little lodging that I don't need to see the scorched marble, the doors hanging askew. A mage in clean robes would be stopped, but a small woman in worn leathers attracts little attention when mercenaries are commonplace. With no viscount, no chantry, no guard-captain, and so many of the Templar Order dead the city has had to rely on hired bands to bolster the remaining guardsmen. I am just another newcomer in a sea of foreigners, another person meeting with the only man willing to take the reins of leadership in this desperate time. _

_I am before his door, and my hand lifts to rap too quickly for my mind to stall it. My pulse leaps at his command to enter. The barrier swings away, and I am suddenly standing before him. He seems older than in my memory, worn with care and vigilance. His eyes widen and he stands; I cannot help trembling. _

_Then my sight blurs as he opens to me and I am once again in his arms, my name whispered into my hair with the sort of reverence I've only heard him utter for the Maker. _

_There is no rejection this time. The only ache I feel is from the pressure of his embrace, and my breasts smashing against the holy relief adorning his armor. _

_Alone, so far removed from duty and innocence, we are healed. _


	5. Gorim

**Summary: **The world knows of Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan. But what of those who came before...?

**Disclaimer: **Repeat after me: I own zilch.

**Queen's Quornor:** The dwarf origin stories are rich and detailed, but they are not my favorites. For the Commoner storyline I'm going to have to do some research; was there a crush option for him/her? If there isn't, I'll just do a spin on the option to flirt with Jowan in the mage origin.

Gorim

_I never liked being an Aeducan. It's not that I minded being of the Noble Caste, merely the house into which I was born. As second in line from the throne, I was treated differently by everyone. Trian looked down on me, Bhelen gave those appraising looks every time he saw me, merchants scrambled to catch my attention for every little item, and warriors treated me gently in the sparring ring. I had no friends, not even a mother after Bhelen came along. A girl in a family of men must prove her worth; an Aeducan princess must prove herself to all of Orzammar. _

_By the Stone, I hated the pressure, especially after it became clear Father favored me above my brother. I've never objected to hard work, nor backed down from a challenge; I resented that I had no chance to rest, not even when I slept. _

_Father held me to a double standard. As his daughter I had to earn his praise, but at the same time he thought I needed more protection than his sons. When he saw how Trian and Bhelen banded together against me, he cast about for a suitable bodyguard for me. I argued that I could protect myself, and he _ordered _me to accept his choice. _

_Then I met Gorim, and my opinion changed. I'd see him in a few Provings. He wasn't as famous as some of the other fighters, but he did possess a tenacity and sense of honor that I found lacking in most of his peers. Gorim was as skilled as any of the Warrior Caste, but he did not have the cruelty, the arrogance, that were so heartily endorsed by fighters such as Wojech Ivo, or my cousin Piotin. Even better, his family had served mine for generations with distinction and he was extremely handsome. _

_I was honestly tempted to kiss my father's cheek when he presented Gorim as my personal bodyguard and second. _

_Perhaps he did not intend to begin a relationship with me, but I convinced him to stop merely guarding my person and become intimately familiar with the body he was meant to protect. I seduced him, I freely admit it. Ancestors know I was discreet, but I couldn't take it anymore. Trian dallied with willing girls and Bhelen had his consort, yet I was supposed to remain pure? By the Stone, I was only a few years away from leading my first expedition. There are no virgins in the Deep Roads! How long was I supposed to wait? _

_I didn't expect to actually fall for Gorim. I figured we would have some fun, and eventually I would either be married off or chosen as queen and have to pick a consort from the Noble Caste. Ancestors, I never truly believed Father would pick me over Trian as his preferred heir. I was told I was everything he wanted in his successor, but I surmised the Assembly would chose my big brother anyway. So perhaps I was more open with Gorim than I should have been, risked more of myself than was wise. _

_I can only blame myself for my broken heart. _

_I always condemned my brothers for their haughty dispositions, but I still had the arrogance to assume that I would be the only woman he would ever want. In spite of my exile, some part of me expected him to drop everything and fight at my side when I spied him in the Denerim marketplace. I almost wanted him to sweep me into his arms and smother me in his beard, kissing me. _

_I wished to shatter into a thousand shards when he said he had a wife now, with a child on the way. _

_The Aeducan name was between us, even on the surface. When I tried to mask my pain with a false smile and a joke about how quickly he had moved on, he gave me a sad look and said how we both knew "it" could never be. Despite our affair, I was still an Aeducan. _

_I had loved him. He had loved me, or so I thought. In reality, he had loved the Aeducan princess, a woman he would never completely have as his own. It was never real emotion for him._

_There's only one person among all my companions who truly understands. That's why I'm in Leliana's room, curled in her arms, crying into her shoulder while she holds me close. She stole men's hearts before impaling them; she knows what it is like to be loved for what is seen rather than what _is.

_We've become so close since we met in Lothering. I told her about Gorim. She was there at our reunion. _

_Perhaps that is why I am not surprised when her hand strokes along my cheek, raising my face to the moonlight so my tears glisten. _

_Perhaps it is why I stretch upward, ignoring the soft creak of the cheap bed upon which we kneel. _

_Perhaps my need for real love, for acceptance, is why I can accept her kiss. _


	6. Leske

**Summary: **The world knows of Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan. But what of those who came before...?

**Disclaimer: **Repeat after me: I own zilch.

**Queen's Quornor: **The Dwarf Commoner, at last! This particular chapter is going to be of a different vein than the others, since the only person with whom the Warden-to-be runs around is interested more in his/her sister. This character has some serious attitude, I would think. But she'd be learning as she spent time around more subdued people such as Wynne and Leliana.

Leske

_I am a born criminal. According to the caste system of my people, I was damned from the moment I was born, and thus I carry a brand that makes every dwarf I meet spit on me. We castless are worthless, unworthy to feel any emotion beyond pain, which is inflicted upon us regularly._

_So how can it be that I can love?_

_My sister once asked me if I ever loved Leske. I told her I didn't understand what she meant. She said my relationship with him was really not so different from the one she shared with Prince Bhelen. She honestly cared for him, in spite of the things he did. It was her fondest wish to give him a son, regardless of what the event would mean for the rest of us. _

_It was not the same with me and Leske. We sometimes found our way into each other's beds, that was true, but it wasn't because we felt anything sodding special. We sought each other out to fulfill certain needs, or when we were lonely or frustrated with with Beraht or Jarvia and our lot in life. Beyond that, we only had sex because there was nobody else we trusted. He wanted to sleep with Rica, but that was impossible thanks to her role as a noble-hunter. I was the next best thing, and sometimes he would call out my sister's name when we were together. At first it sodding hurt, but I came to accept it. What better could I expect?_

_So I didn't hate him after I was forced to flee Orzammar. I regretted that he had to stay with Jarvia, but I didn't give a nug's ass about our relationship. It wasn't love. I've never known what that means._

_That's why I chose Zevran. Alistair was looking for something I could not give, but my assassin is only after a good time. The understanding is there, as it was with Leske. He has my back, I have his, and we share tent._

_What I can't understand is why I became so angry when Leske tried to kill him. I knew Jarvia would claim him for herself, the sodding bitch; it wasn't a betrayal. But when I saw my former partner step out of the shadows behind Zevran, while my assassin was preoccupied with his own prey..._

_I can't remember ever feeling so furious, so afraid for somebody else. Nothing made me happier than the smile Zevran gave me as Leske's body slipped off my daggers. Killing Leske was worth his safety and approval._

_I don't understand why I reacted that way. I can't figure out how he could mean so much to me._

_Is this what Rica feels for her prince? Is this love?_

_Sodding stones. Why now? I don't need this while I'm trying to save Ferelden's collective ass. I have to focuse not swoon every time Zevran comes near me. _

_Damn you, Leske! This is your fault, you nug-humping piece of garbage!_

_But still..._

_Ancestors accept you, my friend._


End file.
